


To You, 20 Years Before Today

by Sevanadium



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Eren basically become's a younger Levi's caretaker, Gen, Oneshot, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevanadium/pseuds/Sevanadium
Summary: Chucked back about 20 years into the past, Eren can't do much more than just live.





	To You, 20 Years Before Today

**Author's Note:**

> Vague Manga Spoiler's ahead (though I literally take everything past season 2 of the anime and throw it into the trash)
> 
> -I didn’t want to factor in all of the stuff outside of Paradis to uhh, just pretend they figured out nuclear technology and nuked each other. I’d say this happened shortly after Annie Bertholdt and Reiner left on their mission (yes, Eren lied about this in the erwin scene)  
> \- Younger Eren is not a Titan at all (because 2 attack titans?). Either there can only be one attack titan and older Eren kept it instead of Grisha because he has two titans, or he killed Grisha to keep him from passing on the hell of being a titan to his son?  
> -The curse of Ymir doesn’t affect Eren in here – he leaves right after teaching 3dmg to Levi because he thinks he’ll die but then he uhh.. doesn’t. I have two explanations for this, either it’s because he doesn’t belong in the timeline or because he’s pretty much just pure rage and refused to die  
> \- Statdorp is a made up place. It’s a more phonetic version of ‘staddorp’ which literally translates to town-villiage. Because I’m that inventive when it comes to names (*clears throat* Port Harbour, East Town, Main City, Home Road—the last one is actually real.)

**Young Eren**

Standing on his toes and leaning from side to side, Eren attempted to peer over the crowds gathered to watch the arrival of the Scouts. It wasn’t the smartest idea—he was nine years old and consequently, he barely came up to the shoulders of the churning crowd.

The horses’ hooves clacked against the cobbled ground as they trudged onward. Just a few meters away from him were the select few people inside the wall that had seen the outside world—they must have seen at least some of the things that Armin often spoke about.

(The idea of water as far as he could see seemed foreign. Eren was small for his age, but apparently, even the largest of titans would be dwarfed by such a thing. Maybe the Scouts could confirm the existence of such a thing—the ocean was what the book called it.)

A hand grabbing his sleeve drew his attention away.

“Come,” Mikasa commanded, dragging him away from the crowds.

Eren resisted. He wanted to see the Scouts. Seeing them pass through their small town was rare and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. He didn’t know when he’d get another.

“But—I want to see them.”

“You can’t see them from here, Eren.” She pointed to a wooden crate pushed up against a nearby wall with her free hand. “We’re light so it won’t break if we stand on it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

“C’mon then,” he said and ran off. She followed, still gripping his sleeve and only letting go when they clambered on top of the crate. This was the first time that Eren could see the Scouts for himself—it was almost like a dream come true after the many times that he and Armin, when playing pretend wasn’t considered to be something for little kids, had role-played as members in the Scouting Legion. The best part of those games was when all the titans were eradicated and humanity no longer had to hide behind the walls (prison bars).

The giddy grin on Eren’s face dropped.

What he saw was not the triumphant return of those tasked with taking back their world, but a funeral procession. Shadows dimmed the faces of not only the men and woman with the wings of freedom plastered onto their hunched backs but the crowds gathered around them.

Eren understood why none of the people had dispersed because he too was rooted to the spot. What they were seeing—grief, the deaths of squad members, proof of life’s unfairness—was a highly private moment, yet just like everyone else, he was entranced by the scene in front of him, unable to turn away.

Why was the world so obsessed with ripping everything they had away from them? Anger coursed through Eren’s veins, burning him, igniting a fire inside of him and tightening his hands into fists. His toes curled. He wanted to swallow the rage away but his mouth was drier than the burned bread they would get from the bakery once in a while for a lower price.

Very few Scouts looked to be unharmed. Among those were the three leading the group. But only one of them drew Eren’s attention.

His dark hair hung in a curtain around his face, thick and greasy from weeks without a proper was. Currently, he spoke with one of the other three—a petite man that held himself with a poise more suited to a Sina man than a Scout—and it was impossible to see the full detail of either of their faces.

But the way that the man nudged the smaller one in such a light-hearted way was wrong. No one should be sharing a joke in such a moment—

Even through the clumps of hair obscuring the man’s face, Eren could easily see them. His eyes. They were difficult to describe—tired and world-weary but with fire burning within, deep and resolute.

They held eye contact for aeons in an impromptu staring contest before the man’s expression shifted and he smiled at Eren—it looked forced but at that moment Eren couldn’t blame the man.

If Eren hadn’t known better he would have thought that he and Mikasa had stood watching the Scouts on the crate for hours, but the sun still held its position high up in the cloudless sky. He did know better—only a few seconds passed since they saw the Scouts, maybe a minute—but they would remain firmly etched into his mind for years.

* * *

**Levi**

“Here, kid. You look like you could do with this more than me.” Levi looked up at the man that had approached him, his hands already moving to the knife he kept stowed away on his person.

It was a trick he’d seen others fall for: someone offering something like a good Samaritan—Kenny had used the word to describe people that helped others for nothing in return—but no one was like that. They all wanted something back and in for those gullible kids that had fallen for the first bit of kindness they’d seen in this literal pit of hell, it had not been good.

He looked nice enough. Not that looks meant anything here, Levi could easily contend to that, having committed enough crimes to warrant a lifetime behind bars.

“How about this then: I’ll give you the bread and you can help me get some more? We share that too.”

Everyone had an ulterior motive.

“Why should I trust you?” Levi murmured. Sometimes he wished that his voice rung out, demanding respect like Kenny’s.

“I—I,” the man shut up and closed his eyes for a few seconds and a myriad of expressions flitted over his face. All of them too quick for Levi to get a proper read on what he was thinking. “When I was a little younger than you, I had everything—a mom, a father... a life where there was enough to not know what hunger and cold really meant.”

There was more to the story. No one chose to live in the Underground and no one here lived the comfortable life this man had described. He kept silent and let the man continue to talk, just to humour him.

“Has there ever been something in your life that you’ve lost and only afterwards did you realise how much you’d taken it for granted?”

Yes. Levi had always assumed that Kenny would stick with him, not leave when the Underground became old hat and then go on to do whatever he occupied his time with now. If he was even still around.

The man smirked and his eyes lit up far brighter than any of the poorly maintained oil lamps. “For a long time I was angry at the world—I still am I guess but… I guess I see myself in you— indulge my nonsense and take half of the loaf at least.”

Levi pondered over what the man had said before he held out his hand expectantly. The man tore the bread into two pieces, one much larger than the other, before putting the larger half into Levi’s hand and tearing into his own.

“Thank you,” Levi said through a mouthful of bread. It was better than what he usually ate but it wasn’t what Kenny sometimes brought home after he’d been missing for a few days—that bread was fluffy and didn’t have any hints of bitter that promised mould within the next day or so.

Despite knowing better, Levi didn’t leave and stood still as he polished off the rest of his bread. His stomach still ached—whether it was protesting against the food or because it wanted more he didn’t know. By now he would have scurried off, looking for someone that was better off than he was to try and pickpocket. However, the man was interesting. He’d shared more than Kenny had ever shared with him within a few sentences, but what he didn’t like was the way the man looked at him—like he was something to be pitied.

Maybe he should leave now. He turned and started to walk away, the bread sitting like a stone in his stomach.

“Hey,” the man called out. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“I said that it’s Levi.” Upon turning around, Levi found an unreadable expression on the man’s face once more. “You don’t have to pity me.”

“No, no. I’m not—”

“—I can take care of myself.” Lifting up the hem of his shirt, Levi showed him the knife tucked into the hem of his pants. An irresponsible move, yes, but he still had another stowed away in his boots (the last thing Kenny had gotten him).

“I’m sorry,” The man said his eyes not meeting Levi’s, nor straying in the direction of the knife that he’d shown off only moments prior.

“Why are you apologising?” Levi scowled.

“You’re a kid—you shouldn’t have to be able to take care of yourself. No kid should.”

“Well, life’s not all that nice to people.”

‘It really isn’t,” the man agreed before he changed the subject. “Have you ever been to the Above?”

“I wish.” Bitterness laced his voice.

Kenny had been. Many, many times. Levi knew the Underground’s twists and turns off by heart and no amount of searching would bear any results when Kenny was out. Moreover, after he returned, claustrophobia plagued his uncle and he paced the room all whilst regaling anecdotes of how humanity was caged by huge walls that ran on for further than the eye could see—to Levi, that sounded like freedom.

“People are the same. They still live and suffer and die. Just like in here. One day I hope you get out of here though. You deserve it,” the man said, a smile playing at his lips—like he was replaying old memories that he held dear.

Inwardly, Levi wondered what the man has seen in his life. Youth still coloured his features yet his disposition was carefully nonchalant and similar to Kenny’s—and Kenny killed people for a living.

“What about you? What’s your name, old man?”

The man blinked a few times, opened his mouth, but then paused. “Kruger, Eren Kruger.”

“Hm, never heard of it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that important,” the man—Eren—waved him off.

* * *

**Levi**

Bruises from the 3DMG ached and the leather straps only aggravated them further as they dug into Levi’s skin. Those bruises had been a constant companion since he’d started training with the gear only a couple of weeks ago. No longer did he struggle as much with the basics—balancing, knowing where to aim the hooks, keeping an eye out for obstacles—but it would take a long time before all of that good committed to memory and he wouldn’t have to hold it in the forefront of his mind whenever he was airborne.

“You’re doing good, but remember that you can’t afford to make any mistakes,” Eren said. “Because—”

“One mistake is all it takes,” Levi finished. All it takes for them to be caught by the police, by their own stupidity, by whatever seemed to want them dead. Eren was much more knowledgeable on the last aspect and had also imparted the importance of knowing the gear in backwards, forwards and whatever other direction he could fathom making it move in more times than he could count.

“You still haven’t told me where you learned how to use this junk.”

“Ah, but that’s not important.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Levi surreptitiously massaged the worst of the bruises—the ones on his hips—with his thumbs, withholding a wince as they protested to the pressure.

“Were you in the military?”

A pause. “Because I’d be here if I were. A couple friends of mine were—and none of them left except through a coffin. Come on, you need to keep trying.”

On Eren, the assorted straps looked comfortable. Like a second skin and not the synthetic mess that they were. And when he’d taken to the sky—he had been flying, Unlike how he’d taught Levi, Eren stayed grounded as he moved from building to building, seamlessly taking to the air between buildings and whenever he performed a complicated somersault to change direction or momentum.

“I know, old man.” He took off, moving idly around the empty plaza—even during the day, few people passed through this one and made it the perfect spot for them to practice.

“I’ll have you know that I’m only twenty-five!” Eren yelled up at Levi.

Looking down at Eren, Levi grimaced. He looked minuscule from near the building line, just like how Levi often felt when Eren regaled him with stories of the Above—expansive skies and buildings sprawled out over the country like they were lounging instead of huddled together like they were in the Underground.

If Eren was twenty-five, by no means was he an old man. In fact, he was barely four years older than Levi himself and—Levi’s face contorted like he’d eaten something sour—Eren’s entire demeanour was that of a man that had seen enough for three lifetimes. Who knows how many ghosts from his past refused to stay in their place and still haunted him to that day.

Between the two of them, it was always Levi that was inexperienced, the naive one, the child that needed protecting. There were two reasons why the concept made Levi’s stomach threaten to rebel more than watching the gravity-defying stunts Eren showed him with the 3DMG ever did.

Firstly, not holding all the cards in the deck left Levi unknowledgeable and prone to surprises. Rashness ran through his blood as much as it did Eren’s but he prided himself on being able to look at the full picture before anyone thought they could get the upper hand—like so many had tried to do to him before.

(Not Eren)

Secondly, Eren’s pride saturated him until even the blind would notice it at a glance and he was unwilling to accept help. From anyone. Everything he did, he did by himself. Not knowing what Eren aimed for made it even worse—Levi was a blind man lost in a field of thorns when it came to deciphering Eren’s psyche. Against his instincts, a part of Levi feared that one day, Eren’s nature would be his downfall.

(No, not Eren)

“You say that but I know you can’t keep up with me,” Levi taunted. He’d stopped passively swinging around and had come to rest on an archway, legs coiled and ready to push off at a moment’s notice.

Within seconds, Eren had himself suspended from the same arch as Levi.

“Just because I said you’ve got talent...at this rate you won’t need gas—your head will lift you well enough.”

“Then how about a race? First to the clock tower and back wins,” Levi said, extending his legs and catapulting himself in the direction of the tower.

(Truthfully, he was a cut above everyone, Eren included. There was no reason for him to continue to pander to a book written in a script he couldn’t read.)

Only a week ago, the race would have been more than a competition. However this was not a week ago and Levi made it back first, having kept his lead for most of the way.

Standing atop the archway, Eren looked pensive—the manic grin of the race had yet to slip away but it no longer reached his eyes properly and the burning fire in them didn’t dance excitedly but rather stood deadly still.

“Your old man comment got me thinking,” Eren began. “I’ve got some business I need to take care of—I don’t know how long it will take.”

Levi blinked at the sudden change of conversation from the banter that they’d shared barely a minute ago. “When are we leaving?”

Slowly, Eren shook his head. “Not we. Only me. I know you’re strong. I know, but… I can’t tell you what it’s about. Not right now.”

“When will you tell me anything?” Levi asked, his voice straining at his throat as he fought to not let his sudden anger get the best of him.

Silence.

Deftly, Eren untied his hair, ran his fingers through it, and put it back into a bun. He opened his mouth. Then he closed his mouth. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. Eren’s words were quiet but quivered with determination.

“When I get back, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

(Even if he was stronger than Eren—more capable of adapting and taking to new challenges like the garrison took to a couple of drinks—Eren was the better man. He had shown kindness where Levi had been filled with selfishness.)

And because of that, Levi would always keep his head turned towards Eren, even if it meant looking behind him.

* * *

**Erwin**

“If Eren doesn’t want to join then I’m not going,” the man said to Erwin, his arms crossed and face glowing with indignation. Across from him the girl and the taller man nodded, less sure of themselves than he was, but still certain in the fact that they would follow this Eren guy.

So, Erwin took a gamble. “Please, may you take me to Eren so we can talk then?”

Which led to Levi—they’d introduced themselves before Levi turned on his heel and began to walk before asking if he was coming—leading him through a convoluted maze of alleys, arches and plazas.

Despite his gut telling him that he was fine, his hands still hovered near his blades.

The stairs leading to the doorway were easy to miss had Levi not headed for it. Somewhere along the way the other two—Isabelle and Farlan had split off and left Erwin and Levi by themselves.

Quickly Levi slammed the door open and all but shoved Erwin inside, causing him to lose his footing and stumble. Behind him, the door slammed closed.

Levi called out to the room, “Oi, old man. I brought you a friend. Maybe you two can reminisce about the ‘good old days’ instead of bothering me.”

“Stop slamming the door because I’m not replacing it again if it breaks!” the man that Erwin assumed to be Eren said as he stepped out of one of the two doors that were inside their house.

Most likely they were bedrooms since the room he stood in was an amalgamation of a kitchen, lounge and study—there were a surprising amount of herbs, bottles and various scientific equipment (Erwin couldn’t tell the difference between a beaker and a flask since science wasn’t his forte) scattered liberally throughout the room.

While Erwin has been looking around, Eren had been studying him—the feel of his eyes staring intently had not let up for a second.

“Ah, you must be Erwin Smith,” Eren said. Old man was definitely not the correct term to describe him. He looked to be younger than Levi.

“You’ve heard of me?” It wasn’t rare for that to happen. But normally people in more affluent areas—that had enough money to dabble in funding the military—knew of him.

“You’re in the Scout Regimen. Your father was a teacher. He was executed because he dared to dream of life outside the walls. People think that you’re not the same, but you are. Freedom calls out to you too.”

Titans always made Erwin feel like he was prey, but with Eren, it was different. Green eyes, like those of a cat—stayed trained on him. Not seeing him, but instead of seeing right through him. He remained silent.

Eren walked to the dining table and sat. “Sit. You’re going to be here a while.”

He complied.

“Levi?” Eren called out.

“Yes?”

“Make some tea for us. The third cup is strong, only half a spoon of sugar.” Eren turned to face him. “I do hope that you take your tea the same as when I knew you.”

Erwin blinked. No matter how much he stared at Eren, he couldn’t find even the fainted sense of familiarity—and he was good with faces. Additionally, he should recognize someone who knew the way that he took his tea. No one remembered that sort of thing unless they’d been in each other’s company on many an occasion.

“Would you mind elaborating on that?”

Seemingly, he’d asked the right question since Eren smiled in reply. “What if I told you that I’m from the future?”

Time travel was something that Erwin had seen once or twice in novels. While tempting—with it he could make sure that his father never got executed, he could change so many things and make sure that the best outcome occurred and save so, so many lives—there was no way that it was possible. Yet he wanted Levi and his friends in the military—they would be a brilliant asset. Because of that, he would have to humour Eren. Maybe he would even catch the man out on his lies if he did so?

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together—the picture of an interested participant. “How far into the future did you come from then, Eren?”

“20 or so years. I was in the Scout Regiment, under Captain Levi’s command.” Eren’s eyes flicked over to Levi, who was still busy preparing their tea the pot of water delicately balanced over an open flame.

“Where was—”

Eren cut him off. “You died. I wasn’t there but Captain Levi was—” he closed his eyes, reliving the memory— “the Captain, he was pissed off. He never did tell me exactly what he was angry at. We weren’t that close. Valiant. That’s what you and your soldiers’ effort was—but the Colossal Titan had put me out of commission. I could do nothing.”

When Eren’s eyes opened again, tears welled up. He blinked them away.

After a few words, Eren cut himself off. “I’m sorry, commander—”

“...It hasn’t happened. Yet. I don’t think there’s anything to be sorry for,” Erwin said. Levi placed his tea in front of him before sitting on a nearby stool. “Thank you.”

“I know you don’t believe me, commander. You don’t have to. It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing on the other side of the walls. Not anymore,” Eren said. His hair covered his face as he stared done at his tea.

“Not anymore?” Erwin asked.

“Simple. There was an entire world out there and they wiped each other out.”

While the tea was made properly, Erwin nearly winced at the taste—it was cheap, but what could he expect? He was in the Underground after all, listening to a mad man ramble on about something that he truly believed in if the conviction in his eyes were to be trusted.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit more about this world?”

“No. I’d much rather tell you about how we can defeat the titans once and for all. You did come here to recruit me, did you not?”

When Eren looked up Erwin saw a roaring inferno—he saw a predator fueled by the most savage, primal hatred that pooled in the depth’s of one’s belly before building up and bubbling over into something truly monstrous.

But for the first time since he’d set foot into the small house, Erwin did not feel watched, instead excitement shuffled through his system and lifted his lips into a smirk.

“I look forward to you telling me about that.”

Truthfully, he still did not believe Eren. But he was oh so curious—he wanted to figure out this man that knew—what he had never shared with a single soul. Trusting his gut instinct, he figured that the man that had taught Levi to use 3DMG as he did had something of substance underneath everything.

(And he wasn’t proven wrong when Eren turned into a fifteen-meter titan that was perfectly well behaved and continued to divulge secrets about everything—the walls, the royalty, the military, Erwin himself—all of which he should not know.)

* * *

**Young Eren**

“Who is he?” Armin asked.

“Huh? I don’t know,” Eren replied.

“Oh. I thought you knew since you’ve been staring at him for a while.”

“I mean I’ve seen him before—he was part of the Scouts that came through our town a couple years back.”

“I heard his name was Eren Kruger,” Mikasa supplied.

“Maybe he’s you from the future?” Armin asked.

Narrowing his eyes, Eren looked at the man in further detail. They’d seen each other a few times since they’d joined the military, their eyes were the same colour which was an odd similarity when added to them having a similar name but the man was cold, and calculating and nothing like him.

While amusing to think about in passing, it was impossible in reality. “He doesn’t have this—” Eren tapped a thin, silver line that ran from the corner of his right eye to his cheek— “scar though.”

Training with 3DMG was difficult at first and nearly everyone had gotten their fair share of injuries. In Eren’s case it has been when he’d accidentally slammed into a tree on a day of unscheduled training for the 3DMG gear—the only training day that the mysterious Eren Kruger had led due to him ‘being a prodigy with 3DMG’.

“What if he tampered with the timeline? If he wasn’t there, we wouldn’t have been training the day you got the scar.” Armin laughed and Eren couldn’t help but join him.

“I still don’t think it’s possible.” Eren couldn’t even fathom what kind of technology would be needed to send someone back in time.

“I agree with Eren.”  


Armin pouted. “It’s still fun to think about.”

* * *

**Older Eren**

A long-time passed before Eren realised how detached he was from everything. No longer was he part of the military—he had no responsibilities. There were no friends that were around to cajole him into getting a couple of drinks on a Friday night. In other words, his entire existence was an endless cycle of just... existing.

It really was a nice break from the rut to wake up in a field in the middle of nowhere. At least he had something to do now.

So he’d started walking, and walking, and walking—eventually he’d stumbled across Statdorp, a small town near the outskirts of wall Maria that bustled with life—

Well, that was new.

After snooping around a bit, Eren came to the most startling conclusion. He’d travelled back in time over twenty years. He wasn’t even born yet. And it wasn’t a dream, it was far too real—right down the pain he’d felt when a man had bumped into him and left him sprawled against the floor without a single apology or even an acknowledgement.

By the time that dusk had begun to descend, Eren’s mind was still wondering and nowhere near where his body was. At that moment he had no money and nowhere to stay and thus settled for the next best thing: setting up camp just outside of the town—far enough to not cause any issue but close enough so that he could clearly see the image of the once destroyed Statdorp.

When the sun had hit the highest point in its journey the idea hit him—if he was in the past, that meant he could change things—deaths could be avoided and humanity would finally prevail, avoiding the devastating loss of wall Maria.

Eren’s mother wouldn’t be eaten alive, her legs crushed to oblivion under a boulder, he could cajole Armin’s parents into not abandoning him for a world where they would get killed within hours, Mikasa’s parents could be saved—

He paused. If he saved Mikasa’s parents, then Mikasa and himself would never get as close as they got. Eren would lose his sister. Both of them would lose integral parts of who they were.

Mikasa’s hardships had made her all the more stronger.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t change anything. There were still so many things that he would rather have turned out better. He knew how to use his titan form and could take advantage of it to make sure that Shiganshina would never fall.

That was if he could still use his titan powers.

A few seconds of deep breathing calmed Eren down enough so that he could focus on himself. He pushed his mind mentally, poking and prodding until he found the familiar adrenaline rush that came to him when he was ready to transform and he just needed an injury to jump start it.

His shoulders slumped and he let out a deep breath. At least that was still there. Useless is what he would have been if he no longer had access to his titan form.

Even with his titan form, he still needed to gain allies—he couldn’t do anything solely on his own.

There was no way that he could get Mikasa since a.) she wasn’t even born yet and b.) he’d already gone through the whole decision process, deciding to leave her alone so as not to change her into something which she was not.

Another person of a similar skill set did exist though.

Levi.

Not that he would be able to find him. Until Levi joined the military, finding him would be harder than finding a lost sock. So Eren would have to bide his time until then.

He could join the military now and start building his way up, and the idea of heading towards the inner walls seemed good. Whilst he was there he would have a higher chance of coming across someone of importance—and by allying with them he could make sure his plans would work.

If he was stuck here he might as well make the best of it.

That night he dreamed of a lithe, blonde girl that held her hand out to him and offered promises of a way to change the world around him so that it wouldn’t degrade into nothingness once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are much appreciated.


End file.
